


Bacon & Eggs

by Anythingtoasted



Series: Adventures in the Batcave [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8x14 coda, Batcave Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 17:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingtoasted/pseuds/Anythingtoasted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>batcave fluff. 8x14 coda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bacon & Eggs

Castiel has smelt things like this before, though he can’t place exactly when. He dredges himself out of bed, having lain half-conscious all night beside Dean, listening to the slow rhythm of his breathing, ‘watching over’. Dean doesn’t complain, anymore; just curls against his side and huffs against his shirt sleeve, muttering, “One of these days, we’ll get you some fucking pyjamas.”

He treads his way down the hallways of the Men of Letter’s headquarters – the place really is remarkable. There are books here which Castiel thought lost, knowledge plain as day when he thought it had tipped down that great vacuum of time which eventually destroys all the ancient things; he spent the day before wandering the library, Sam tripping after him, a steadily growing stack of books in his hands. He told the younger Winchester about them – some of these texts, he had witnessed the inception of. Others, he didn’t know at all. Sam, thirsty as ever for context, for meaning, had lapped up his words like lifeblood, nodding along, offering his questions and confirmations as they went. Dean had stopped by only occasionally, to smile in a way which Castiel now knows is ‘reluctantly affectionate’, and to tell them they were both ‘geeks’.

He touches the old pine panels of the halls as he goes, following the smell.

The night he came back had faded to something of a blur, now, but one tag, one facet, had remained; Dean had kissed him, ragged and desperate then slow and soft, again, and since then they had done it regularly, held each other, even. He knew little what to make of it; only knew, really, that the vast, indecipherable thing he had wanted from Dean was this. That somehow the physicality of this, something he’d never really fully understood, before, was what was making him rise from Dean’s –  _their –_ bed in the morning and feel at rest.  

He reaches the source of the smell, the kitchen; Dean is at the counter, frying bacon, and the smell of batter and grease is rich in the air, palpable. For a while, Castiel just stands there, watching him. Dean smiles even though no one is there, and now he sings a little, even, moving around the kitchen with deliberate rhythm, a bounce to him that Castiel has never really seen before. There is so much to do, so much more they’ll have to get through before they can even really _try_ to find something resembling peace – and yet here he is, this war-torn, ragged man, cooking breakfast for his little brother and his friend, and singing softly to himself,  _Oh, Oh, you don’t have to go –_ he stops, when he realises Castiel is there.

“No breakfast if you mock me.” He says, saucepan in hand, moving to take plates from the cabinets around him. Castiel feels something warm bloom in his chest; remains in the doorway.

“I’ll try not to, then.” He responds, but his voice has gone quiet, and Dean tips a smile at him – and keeps singing. 

**Author's Note:**

> just FYI, the song Dean is singing is "D'yer Mak'er", by Led Zeppelin. ♥


End file.
